


taste you

by swallowedsong (bookstvnerdlove)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, tattoo and cock appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstvnerdlove/pseuds/swallowedsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pwp. it's that one tattoo of his. the one that sits low on his hips. the one that peeks out from under his shirt as he lies there all bed-rumpled and sleepy. it makes her want to lick it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	taste you

There’s a sliver of skin that shows when he stretches, all lazy arms above his head and back arching, bowing off their bed. She used to think it was hot, those early nights when they would fall asleep naked, sleepy and sated, sweat and sex and  _newness_  in the air. She’d spent hours mapping his body those nights, tracing along the grooves and ridges of his muscles, the edges of his scars. But now it’s this that makes her hot, makes her flush with want. The knowledge of what lies beneath. 

_The tease._

One night she took her lips, her tongue, and traced every path of ink that marks his skin, the hidden places, the surprising places. She took in each groan from his lips, each gasp of breath, the way his hips rolled and sought the warmth of her hand, her mouth, her body. That’s the place that tempts her now, a flash of black on pale skin that peeks out from under his cotton shirt, riding above the drawstring of his pants. It’s her favorite place to trace with her lips, to nip with her teeth, until his body is writhing beneath hers and he’s begging her  _Emma, please._

It hits her in a rush of heat, the curling desire in her belly and the way her body pulses at her core. She’d been standing at the door, convincing herself that it’s late, time to shower and go to work, until he made that noise, that half moan he makes when he’s just beginning to rouse himself from sleep. It sounds like sex all lazy and low, and when he blinks his eyes open, so blue, and stretches just that inch more, he knows he has her. 

She slips off her robe, the soft fabric making the lightest sound as it hits her floor, followed by the sound of rustling clothes and sheets. And the small gasp of air that escapes him, his eyes widening, darkening with want as he moves to sit up. 

She lets her lips stretch into a smile as she crawls to the bed, her knees hitting the soft fabric, her hands curling into the duvet for leverage. Body hovering over his, one hand glides up his arms pushing at his shoulder, pressing him down into the soft cocoon of their bedding. 

“Good morning,” her words are a whisper against his body as she moves back down. Down, down, until her lips find his skin, sleep warm and salty. She traces the path of his ink, her tongue tasting him, as a soft chuckle escapes him. 

“Like that one, do you, love?” His voice is rough, not awake, heavy with the desire that she knows is building underneath his skin, same as it builds in her. 

It’s not just the ink, but the cut of his hipbone from this angle and the way his muscles tense underneath her touch. The way the line of the tattoo seems to ripple, alive on his body, with every movement, every shift. Alive because of her, her touch, her focus.  

He loves every touch of hers and she knows it.

“Mmmm, what gave it away?” She murmurs against him, teeth nipping the taut muscles of his lower abdomen, relishing in the way his hips cant up towards her chest, his erection brushing against her through the layer of his pajamas. Her hands shifting until they press against his thighs, keeping him still. She listens for that moan of his, the sad whine that escapes when she makes him wait for what he wants most. 

“Do you think, darling, that I haven’t paid close attention to every moment your lips have been on my body, every touch, every flick of your tongue? Do you think, Emma, that I don’t  _know_ what drives you wild with want?”

She clenches her thighs together, his dark tone sending sparks along her spine, the pulse between her legs throbbing. She can feel her own slickness, how wet he’s made her and the friction of her legs rubbing together, rubbing her outer lips, makes  _her_  the one who moans this time. 

Pulling at the drawstring of his pants, she slides them down his hips, enough for his cock to spring free, before she resumes her grip on his thighs, nails digging into his skin when he tries to move too much, more than she’s ready for. More than she’s ready to allow him. His cheeks aren’t flushed enough yet, his teeth not yet biting at his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. He hasn’t begged her yet, said her name with that tone she craves, the one that says he’ll do anything as long as she wraps her lips around him immediately. 

Her fingers are feather light as she begins to stroke him, the nails of her other hand still digging into him, marking him with their curved half-moon shape. She’ll spend time soothing those marks in the shower later, after he’s come in her mouth. Maybe even after she’s let him taste her, his tongue soothing the ache she currently feels. Her lips tease the hard plane of skin above him, as her fingers trace along the underside of his cock, around his balls. Tracing a path of his most sensitive skin. 

Her breath warms him as she continues to tease, open mouth a whisper away from him, tongue flicking out and back so quickly that he growls at her, low and deep from the back of his throat. She does it again and again until his hand finds her head, his fingers threading until he pulls her away from body, until he makes her raise her eyes to meet his. 

“Stop torturing me, love,” he says, his cheeks finally flushed and pink, his pupils so dark and wide with desire that she licks her lips and releases her fingers from his leg, giving him permission to move, to guide her back to his cock. To slip between her lips until he groans with relief. 

“Touch yourself Emma. Make yourself come, love. Come with me.” His words are desperate and needy, coming in short breaths of air as she works him, hand fisted around his base as she slides, lips sucking and hollowing, his fingers twisting in her hair. 

His words make her burn hotter than she was, shifting her hips open and taking her hand away from him so she can grip the sheets next to her legs, so she can slide her fingers through the slick desire, teasing herself even as he takes complete control of the movement of her lips. Her hips writhe against her own hand as she slides two fingers inside, as she rides them, grinding the heel of her hand against her center. And god, she’s so ready it wont take much, just the heel of her hand pressing against her clit and her hips rolling. She can hear the sounds he’s making, the quick breaths and grunts, she can feel his hips speed up and it’s enough to send her over the edge. 


End file.
